Doormat

The pain of rejection

Is the greatest pain of all.

It hurts so much inside

To be shunned by the one

Whom you blindly adore.

No matter how long

You wait for him,

Right on your face

He slams the door.

He doesn’t want to chat

With a plain doormat

He’d rather wipe his shoes on;

Having no special charm

From the day he bought;

He spares no time

In sentimental talk;

Yet why is it that

He discards me not?

Is it that I’m firm

And not worn out?

But alas! he sadly

Considers it not.

It’s a good thing

I’ve forgotten my voice

Coughing up the mud

Under his feet;

He needn’t bother to

Silence me down anymore.

And tears are wasted

In the pouring rain,

That drenches me whole

Once again.

Saviour

My love for him is tendentious.

No doubt ; he is a great teacher

Or orator rather;

As ascertained by the millions

Who trail like ants

Or swarm around him

To listen to his words.

For a prophetic voice

And puissant grace

Are a combination that adds

A plethora of charm

To a particular demeanour.

Is he my hero?

Should I quickly

Make up my mind ?

Society has carved a niche,

Wherein lies inscribed           

Golden norms for believers.

For any mortal who trespass

The waters of divine faith;

Oh! The Heavens forbid.

MIRAGE

When my eyes met yours

You did belong to me.

Did I hear your voice

Or was it an echo from my heart?

When I clashed,

Was ego my sword and shield?

Now that the fury of the storm has drowned,

I really want to sing once more;

But the melody I seek is gone,

And so the harmony and concord

Lost to the wind and forgot

Just like a mirage.